


Foggy Mornings

by 014469



Series: Thunderstorms [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Steve Rogers, Dorks in Love, Getting Together, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, lovers to... not lovers and then to tentative boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:34:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9221267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/014469/pseuds/014469
Summary: Part 2 of the Thunderstorms series deals with The Morning After situation and how these two idiots make the transition from sex buddies to an actual relationship





	1. Fog warning: visibility low, proceed with caution

Steve Rogers woke up on a foggy Thursday morning in a bed that was not his own.  
Shit. 

Steve Rogers woke up on a foggy Thursday morning in a bed that was not his own, with the most beautiful pair of storm-grey eyes watching his from the other side of the mattress. 

Oh yeah… 

The day before had been… wild, to say the least. Steve’s trusty motorbike had broken down in the middle of a thundery afternoon, and Steve had grouchily called the nearest garage to come and help him out. The man whose raincloud eyes were currently watching him belonged to the mechanic, Bucky, who’d come to his rescue. Steve recalled the previous night with an internal wince. He’d wanted Bucky – hell, he still wanted Bucky – and by some miracle of Hollywood-style rom-com scripting, the sexy muscled mechanic had been interested in the nerdy kid and they’d fucked right there in Bucky’s bed. In Bucky’s apartment. Which was above Bucky’s garage where Steve’s bike was currently drying out and waiting for a new engine part to be delivered. 

Triple shit with bells on. 

Steve took a deep breath and cracked his eyes open a little wider to see Bucky’s face break into a small smile. He could do this. He could smile, say goodbye and walk out of there without getting attached – he could, because he’d have to. Because he knew how these things went. The-night-befores could be as tender and gentle as he could wish for but the-mornings-after were always the same: why the hell did I fuck this aggressive little twig? Thanks but no thanks. See you round. Take care not to let the fucking door hit you on your way out. He had been there before and he knew that this time would be no different.

‘Hey.’ Whispered Bucky, sleepily wriggling a little closer to Steve.

‘Hey yourself,’ Steve’s early morning voice was decidedly not sexy, he knew, but it wasn’t like Bucky was going to want to talk much anyway. Bucky’s eyes flicked to the windows, the he smiled again and said, 

‘Looks like the storms’ cleared up. Can’t hear any rain, at least.’

Whoops, there it was. Steve had had enough of these failed-expectations situations to know a subtle hint to leave when he heard one. Storms’ cleared up, nothing to keep you here now buddy. May as well leave.  
_He could do this._

‘Yeah, ok. Guess I should head out then.’ 

Steve made a show of checking his watch – which he’d fallen asleep still wearing – to see that it was a little after six in the morning. He’d still have time to get home, shower and catch the bus to work if he left now. Remind him never to think that a fucking midweek sleepover was a good idea, like, ever again, because Steve _really_ didn’t want to get up any earlier than he had to. 

Without looking Bucky in the eye – because Steve knew how these things went – he shimmied out of bed and picked gingerly over the floor to where his boxers were discarded, flung carelessly into a corner as a reminder of last nights’ passion. Bucky was sitting up in bed, the covers slipping down his frankly beautiful chest to pool in his lap. The little line funnelling between his eyes could have been confusion – or was he imagining the hurt look on Bucky’s face? 

‘You don’t – I mean, if you have to – would you like some coffee?’ 

Bucky looked down at his lap where his hands were twisting gently together. Steve noticed something he hadn’t seen the night before, a jagged star-shaped scar high on Bucky’s left arm. At some point in time the outline of the vaguely-five-pointed star had been tattooed around in a red line that marked the boundary between textured scar tissue and smooth skin. Trying not to think about what could possibly have caused that scar, Steve paused for a second. He did, kinda, want coffee, and if Bucky was offering could that mean that he actually still wanted to talk? 

No, Steve was reading too much into this, his hope making him imagine more fondness in Bucky’s eyes than could possibly be there. After all, no one else had ever bothered to engage Steve in conversation _the morning after,_ so why would Bucky? Steve had only had one serious relationship, but a whole slew of one-night stands (thought if it were up to him they wouldn’t be one-night anythings), so he knew how this would go, he was sure of it. Bucky was just offering to be nice, to save face, to make himself look less like the bad guy and less like he was kicking Steve out of his apartment after one night of admittedly brilliant sex. Steve knew how things went. 

Still. He wouldn’t _mind_ spending more time with this gorgeous man. If this had happened at Steve’s flat instead of the other way around, Steve would _not_ be kicking him out of bed right now. He might even be convinced to make breakfast, but that was because Steve was a romantic sap at heart and would probably be looking to turn this one-night thing into something more, as he always did. He’d be rebuffed the moment he asked though, as he always was. 

‘I –’ Steve started, but before he could slide any meaningless deflections through his teeth Bucky interrupted him.

‘Or – breakfast? If you, I mean – if you’re not… in a hurry?’

Steve gaped. Breakfast? _Actually?_

He realised he’d been gaping for a moment too long when Bucky’s grimaced and muttered, ‘It’s cool if not, you’ve probably got somewhere to be, right?’

‘Breakfast!’ Steve gasped out and oh, that was fucking smooth, Steven.

Bucky raised an eyebrow.  
‘Yeah, ya know – first meal of the day? Breakfast? Generally eaten in the mornings? Ringing any bells in there?’ Bucky’s lips were twisting into that sweet, gentle smile again and Steve’s stupid heart was lifting hopefully in his chest.

 

‘Uh – I guess I got time for breakfast. Gotta get back to work later though.’

Across the room, Bucky bit his lower lip, all traces of the sleepy smile from earlier gone, replaced with a grin that was honest-to-shit brighter than the sun.

‘Yeah?’ he asked, seemingly unsure that Steve was being serious, but gorgeous, sexy, hot-as-fuck-and-great-in-bed men did not offer to cook Steve breakfast every day of the week and Goddamn he was going to take him up on this offer.  
Steve nodded, a shy smile on his face. 

‘Follow me,’ Bucky mumbled, leading Steve through the apartment to the laundry and wow, for a place above a garage this flat was _nice_. Bigger than Steve’s box room, with exposed brick walls, tall windows and open spaces, an artists’ dream. Steve’s brain flashed to what it would be like to live here, to wake up to the early morning light filtering through the skyline and through those windows while he and Bucky ate breakfast in bed together… No. Breakfast was one thing but that… that was Not Allowed. 

Steve followed Bucky in silence, smiling slightly when Bucky pulled his clothes out of the dryer and retreating into the bathroom to change without another word. When he came out, dressed in his thankfully-dry clothes from yesterday and smelling of Bucky’s laundry detergent, he found the other man in his narrow kitchen standing with his shoulders hunched and his arms braced on the counter in front of a sleek black coffee machine. 

‘Hey, thanks for washing these. It’s great, really.’

Bucky turned his head and gave Steve a weary smile. All at once, Steve’s hopeful heart froze. The extremely uncomfortable look on Bucky’s face spoke volumes and all of a sudden Steve’s brain leapt sideways into shaky territory. Perhaps Bucky had only offered him breakfast to be polite? Perhaps he really didn’t want him here – if the uncertain look on Bucky’s face was anything to go by, he was regretting the offer of breakfast already, and it was going to be like the last time all over again, and the time before that, and the one before that, and… before Steve knew it he had psyched himself out of breakfast and was regretting everything he'd ever done in his life that had brought him to this point.

‘No problem, Steve. Hey, I’ve only got eggs and –’

‘Ah, actually I have to go. Its… later than I realised, I’ve… got to get to work…’

‘Oh.’ 

Bucky sounded genuinely disappointed, and Steve had a momentary flash of self-doubt, but it quickly faded. Steve Rogers was nothing if not a stubborn little asshole, as many of his previous partners had reminded him. This was for the best, really, because Steve knew that this was just The Way Things Went.

‘Are you sure you don’t –’

‘No, no. I should go. See you round?’

‘… oh… yeah. See you round, Stevie.’

There was no emotion in Bucky’s voice as he said goodbye, just steel and ice. Steve turned around and fled downstairs, letting himself out of the back fire escape without another sound. 

~~~~~

Bucky Barnes watched Steve flee his apartment as though he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He didn’t get it – Steve had seemed so nice last night, he’d seemed to want this as much as Bucky did, and Bucky didn’t do one-night stands. At what point had he screwed up? Was Steve using him just for a place to stay the night? Did he think that Bucky wanted something as payment for fixing up his bike?  
Well. Bucky was definitely fond of Steve, definitely attracted to the smaller man, but there was no point in pursuing someone who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him. 

Sighing to himself, Bucky poured a cup of coffee and opened the window so he could smoke. The blue curls from the end of his cigarette were lost against the morning fog that pressed through his open window like a hungry child begging for food. 

~~~~~


	2. The fog clears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its the day after the day after and Steve can't get Sexy Mechanic Bucky out of his head.

Steve – Steve _did not_ miss Bucky. Nope, not at all not even a little. Not a smidge, not a whit, not a – oh who was he kidding? Waking up next to Bucky had been wonderful, and the more Steve thought about it, the more he came to believe that Bucky had – maybe – possibly – wanted more than a single nights’ pleasure from him, offering to make him breakfast afterwards, voluntarily offering to spend more time with him… could Steve have messed up a good thing there? Who was he kidding – this was him, if anyone could mess up a good thing it was him. Having his clothes smell of Bucky for the rest of the journey home wasn’t making things any easier, either. 

Like any other weekday, work was long hours of sitting alone in his studio and trying to make sense of the brief that he’d been given. Some rich diplomat wanted a colourful, bold piece to sit in the entrance hall of the Wakandan embassy building and had given him no more explicit instructions than he wanted it to “make a statement, but not too imposing, you know?” 

Steve did not know. 

Steve was starting to think he would never know, and that perhaps he had been better off sticking to selling his original art on the walls of local coffee shops and staying out of the commission business altogether. But then. Money. Exposure. Recognition. All things any good artist needed. Especially the money, if he was being honest. 

Anyway. Back to the facts at hand – Steve had screwed up his chance with Bucky and there was nothing he could do about it now. Worse, his bike was still in Bucky’s garage and at some point he’d have to go in and pick it up. He briefly wondered if he could get Sam to go in and get it for him, but – the amount of shit he’d receive if he came clean to Sam about this was not worth it just to avoid seeing Bucky again.   
Damn damn double fucking damn. 

Three days later, The Call came through. An unknown number rang Steve’s phone and he froze for a moment, before steeling his will and sliding one finger across the phone screen to answer it. Steve clicked the speaker on and spoke into it from a cautious distance, as though Bucky might be able to feel the heat from his red cheeks through the phone if he held it to his face. 

‘Steve Rogers speaking.’

‘Mr Rogers? This is Nat from Red Star Garage.’

It wasn’t Bucky. _Was that a good thing?_ Bucky probably didn’t want anything to do with him. Steve sighed quietly before answering. 

‘Oh, hi there.’ _Moron._

‘You brought your bike in a few days ago for repairs. It’s all fixed up and ready to be picked up at your leisure.’

‘Oh. Ok – how about I come by later on today? Say around four?’

‘Four is fine, Mr Rogers. See you then.’

‘Thanks, err – see you then?’

There was no goodbye, just the soft click of the line being cut as the other person – _Nat_ – hung up. Steve stared at his phone for a long time after he’d hung up, wondering what to do. 

~~~~~

‘Nat, you’re a lifesaver. Thank you.’

‘Never again, James. You sort out your own mess in future.’

‘Yeah…’

‘Are you listening to me?’

‘Own mess. Sort out. Got it.’

Bucky ran a hand through his oil-greasy hair. Getting Nat to ring Steve because he was too chicken to talk to a beautiful man who’d turned him down… wow that was the definition of _not sorting out his own mess._ Time was he’d have charmed Steve back into his arms with a single phone call and scored a date before he’d even said hello. That was back before he’d joined the army though, back when he’d had a future, had _potential_. 

The garage was steaming hot despite the cold that lingered outside, so warm that when Bucky stepped outside for a smoke his skin steamed in the frosty air like it was creating its own foggy micro-climate. He entertained the mental image of himself wreathed in fog like a mysterious sorcerer from mythology. There was nothing mysterious about him apart from perhaps the mystery of why he managed to fuck things up time and time again. He’d thought he’d found a sweet man willing to stick around… but Steve Rogers had proved to be nothing more than another user. He’d been used before; by the government, by past boyfriends, by his supposed ‘friends,’ and he was in no hurry to be used for sex by gorgeous, emotionless men who needed to be rescued from thunderstorms and looked like sex on legs wrapped in his old jumpers…

Bucky stopped that train of thought before it could drift into melancholy territory, stubbed out the butt of his smoke on the brick wall next to him, and returned to his work with heavy limbs and a strange ache in his chest. 

 

~~~~~

In a fit of desperation, Steve had brought along the most distracting person he knew to get his bike back from Bucky’s garage – Tony motherfucking Stark. Steve and Tony had met back in college when Steve had taken an art class with Tony’s terrifying girlfriend – now fiancée – Pepper Potts. They’d been – not close friends, but ¬– colleagues and acquaintances ever since. Tony Stark had more money than God due to inheriting his father’s business empire and being one hell of an inventor himself, although these days he liked to call himself Tony-the-mechanic more than anything else. Since a health scare a few years ago, Tony had taken a step back from running Stark Industries and concentrated on himself a little more these days. Steve often felt like Tony’s exasperated older brother despite being at least ten years younger than him. Tony was loud, brash and excitable when taken anywhere within spitting distance of any type of workshop, and Steve was hoping that he could discreetly get in, get his bike and get out while Tony was being _loud, brash and excitable_ all over the place. 

‘ _This_ is the place? I’m hurt, Rogers, why didn’t you bring your bike to me? You know I’d do a far better job than whatever second-rate grease monkeys a place like this can afford.’ Tony Stark eyed the door of Red Star Garage mistrustfully from behind his dark tinted glasses, casting his gaze over the dusty, cobwebbed front entrance and dark loading bay. 

Without quite meaning to, Steve bristled at that description of Bucky.

‘This isn’t a _second rate_ anything, Stark. It was pouring with rain and this was the closest place that wouldn’t blow my bank account. I got lucky. And the guy who fixed my bike seems like he knows what he’s doing.’

‘Your knight in shining armour? Works out of a shitty warehouse down what is a very questionable back-alley and drives a… good Lord I haven’t seen a shit-heap like that…’ Tony peered over his sunglasses at the battered green jalopy parked in the spot marked ‘STAFF’ ‘…since the dark ages. Yeah, sounds like a real professional.’

It was only the long years of knowing and dealing with Tony that enabled Steve to take a deep breath and ignore that jab. That bragging insistence that he could have done better was as close as Tony got to acknowledging that he was looking out for Steve, albeit in his own incredibly obnoxious way. 

Squaring his shoulders and expecting the worst, Steve marched up to the door of the garage and straight through it onto the workshop floor. 

Inside was much as he remembered from a few days ago. On Steve’s left was a tiny, dirty office. The sound of a radio piped through old speakers and the room was warm and smelled enticingly of petrol. There were two large men working on the undercarriage of a new Jeep jacked up at a steep angle, calling out to each other from opposite sides of the bonnet. The larger of the two, a red-haired man with an enormous handlebar moustache, was wearing a bowler hat for some strange reason, looking like the Monopoly Man in overalls. The only thing Steve could see of the man underneath the bonnet itself were two long muscular legs and ordinary black steel-toed boots. Neither man gave Steve a second glance as he stalked past them, determined to get this over and done with as little humiliation as possible. Tony, on the other hand, wandered over to the men, picked up a wrench and loudly asked, 

‘You get a free toy with these Mickey-Mouse toolkits? Seriously, this cars gotta be – what? – four years old and you’re attempting to fix the electronics with a roll of duct tape and a prayer?’

The red-haired man turned his head slowly to face Tony.

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘Name’s Tony Stark, you’ve probably heard of me. I run a Fortune 500 company, no big deal.’

‘Well everyone needs a hobby,’ interjected a sharp, low voice. The man under the bonnet of the car had scrabbled out and oh shit, that was Bucky. He was staring up at Stark with the mixture of hostility and disbelief that anyone who’d been around Stark for more than a few minutes would recognise. Bucky’s eyes flicked to Steve for a second, hot and angry, before turning back to Stark without acknowledging his presence. 

‘So Mr Fortune 500, what are you doing in my shop?’ Bucky’s thunderstorm eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Steve could feel the force of that cold glare from across the room. He knew that Stark could hold his own, however, so Steve put his head down and made a beeline for the tiny office, not paying any attention to the bickering that escalated behind him. 

The office was occupied by a youngish woman, short and slight and dressed like the others in a set of grey overalls with a red star on the back. Her fiery red hair was up in a bun and she had a smear of grease on her face, but she lounged in the office chair like she owned the place. She was also extremely attractive, and Steve – well, he’d never been good at talking to attractive people, especially not attractive women. Steve knocked timidly on the door and blushed as soon as the woman turned to look at him. Fucking great, he hadn’t even said anything and he was already getting defensive. 

‘Can I help you?’ the woman’s voice was low and cool, much more polished than he’d expected. It was also somewhat familiar. 

‘I’m, uh – Steve Rogers?’ 

‘Steve. We spoke on the phone. I’m Nat.’ Her words were strangely emotionless, in a way that made him think of doctors delivering bad news to sick patients more than anything else. Being intimately familiar with that practised blankness himself after a childhood spent in and out of hospital, Steve immediately mistrusted this woman. 

‘I’m… uh, I – my phone you said on the bike? Is ready? Um – I mean…’

‘Relax Rogers, don’t hurt yourself. It’s ready. Fill out the paperwork, I’ll bring her round.’ Nat left the office without another word and Steve sat down heavily at the desk feeling like he’d just failed an exam. 

Paperwork filled in and bill paid, Steve met Nat in the garage forecourt. The sound of Tony and Bucky arguing about electronics could be heard over the piped music and drilling, but Steve couldn’t care less. He’d kept Bucky away from him and that was the important thing – nothing else mattered. Not the hurt look on Bucky’s face or the way he kept glancing over to where Nat was handing Steve the keys to his bike, but didn’t actually say anything or acknowledge Steve in any way. 

Nat placed a possessive hand on the bike seat as Steve took the handlebars in hand, stopping him from leaving. She leant forward so that only Steve could hear her. 

‘I’ve taken a liking to this bike. This is my favourite bike, and she’s had a rough time of it recently. So treat her right Rogers, don’t bring her back here broken.’

Nat leaned back. Terrified and more than a little confused, Steve just watched her walk away with a dumbstruck look on his face. _Favourite bike??_ What the hell did that mean? _Rough time_ – the bike was nearly new, he hadn’t been treating her badly at all. Whatever Nat meant, it was completely lost on him. 

‘Tony! Let’s go!’ 

Tony’s head whipped around. ‘Steve-O! I forgot you were even here. I was just having a chat with the knight-in-shining-armour over here –’

Steve groaned, ‘Nooo, Tony, don’t antagonise the nice people. Come on, I’ll let you buy me lunch as thanks for coming down here with me.’

Tony smirked. ‘Only if we can get schwarma. I’ve heard there’s a great schwarma joint not far from here. I’ve never actually had schwarma but I’ve heard its delicious.’

‘Tony we can get whatever you want as long as we go now.’

Steve leant into his bike and started to push it towards the door, fixedly avoiding Bucky’s eye. He missed the silent-but-furious exchange that took place between Bucky and Nat and the red-headed man which consisted entirely of vicious glares, eye rolls and suggestive hand gestures. Just as he was preparing to swing a leg over the bike and kick start her, Steve felt a hand on his elbow. Turning, he looked up into Bucky’s beautiful, wary face. 

‘Am I a nice people then?’

‘Huh?’ Steve was too distracted to say anything because, as previously established, he did not do well talking to beautiful people. 

‘In the garage, you asked Tony not to antagonise “the nice people.” Lemme tell ya, he was being pretty antagonising to me, so –’ here Bucky took a deep breath ‘– am I nice people?’

Steve stared at him, unable to fathom where the conversation was going. 

‘I’m sure you’re a very nice people, Buck, but –’

‘Don’t you want to find that out for yourself sometime?’

‘Huh?’ Now Steve was really confused. 

‘I’m asking if you want to catch up sometime, Steve. On, like, a real date.’

‘Why would you want to do a thing like that?’

‘Oh. Well – never mind. It was just an idea.’ Bucky seemed to shrink in front of Steve’s eyes, and he immediately cursed himself for being such a prickly asshole. 

‘No! I mean yes – it was a good idea, I’d – I’m just – whats in it for you?’

‘What’s in it for me?’

‘Uh yeah? Why do you want to date me all of a sudden? We slept together and then you kicked me out –’

‘I did not!’

‘– yes you did you you kicked me out in the morning –’

‘I offered to make you breakfast! How is that –?’

‘– and then just now you didn’t want to talk to me!’

‘I’m talking to you now aren’t I? Are you always this much of an asshole to people who ask you out on dates?’

Well actually Bucky would be the first person to actually ask him out on a date, so…   
But Bucky didn’t need to know that. Instead of admitting to his insecurities, Steve fell back to his tried-and-tested defence mechanism: arguing. 

‘You didn’t answer my original question – what’s in it for you?’

‘I thought – heaven help me Steve I thought that we could spend some time together, get to know each other! I – Jesus Christ, I didn’t _kick you out_ at all, you ran away! How is offering you coffee and breakfast _kicking you out_?’

Steve gaped at him open-mouthed. He did not expect that.

‘You didn’t mean it.’ he said, sullenly, after a long pause, because the best offense was a good defence and he was not prepared to back down just yet. ‘That’s just what people say the morning after but they’re really trying to get you to leave. It’s ok you don’t have to say anything, I’ve been through enough of those situations to know how that conversation goes.’

Bucky’s voice and eyes did that stupid annoying thing where they got softer and more understanding. It was solidarity, not pity, which Steve could sense coming from the larger man and he wondered whether Bucky himself hadn’t been on the receiving end of a kick out the front door a few times. When he next spoke, his voice was low and gravelly.

‘I meant it. I meant breakfast then and I mean dinner now. Steve – I don’t know what sort of people you’ve been hanging around but when I ask someone out to dinner it generally means _I like them._ ’

‘Oh. So, then… you…’

Bucky sighed. ‘Yes, Steve. I like you.’

‘I’ve been such a jerk to you.’

‘It’s ok, you can make it up to me by coming to dinner with me tomorrow night.’

Steve grinned. ‘I’d like that very much.’

They exchanged numbers on the sidewalk there, Steve with one leg slung over his bike and Bucky with a tentative hand still on his arm. The warmth of Bucky’s large hand covering his made Steve’s heart slip a little in his chest and the feeling of Bucky’s eyes on the back of his head as he and Tony rode away made Steve shiver a little with the intensity. Despite all his misgivings, despite him being a rude unyielding asshole, Bucky was still willing to give him a second chance? How in the world did he end up getting a date with such a beautiful man as Bucky Barnes?   
Steve hoped he wouldn’t fuck it up completely. 

~~~~~

In the end, he did fuck up their first date in true Steve Rogers fashion, but it was alright. Bucky Barnes seemed to have an endless supply of patience and time for Steve and before the year was out, Steve counted himself lucky enough to call Bucky his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Want to hear about the disastrous first date? The next part in this series should be up in a few weeks so stay tuned!


End file.
